Bad Boy's Shy Girl (New Version)

[ 8 ] - Coffee Shop Resturant

               Feeling helpless and not in control of any situation is how i felt almost fifty percent of the time when i was in another's presence, i was used to that already and had accepted that fact a long time ago . . . but sitting next to Noah made me feel more helpless and not in control of the situation than i've ever felt before. I'd never imagine me feeling so vulnerable just by sitting beside a boy who could make my blood pressure rise so quickly; it was uncanny in a way. All throughout the rest of the class i felt as if he'd never take his eyes off me, and while the outside showed no known knowledge about how much stress that was causing me, no one would truly know understand how much that affected me on the inside. And what was bothering about that was i didn't even realize how much.

It was unsettling having to just sit there and let him watch me, but no matter how many times i tried to convince myself that it was weird or disrespectful, i'd take a second and really organize how i was feeling—and i couldn't deny how many butterflies i felt when i did that. My cheeks didn't falter once, and neither did my racing heart; my hands were hidden between my legs which stayed crossed since i sat down, and my eyes were horribly focused on the TV up front. For the life of me i tried to focus on the documentary, but it felt like an invisible role was trying to pull me closer and closer to Noah's oddly warm figure. I hadn't forgotten how freezing cold it was, and it seemed as this classroom didn't have the heater that Mr. McGonagall's classroom did so i was practically freezing, and with how close Noah was to me i could feel every heating fiber lingering in his tissues making me want to be closer to him, but i fought against that urge and rubbed my hands against my shoulders to try and create friction. What made matters worse was that i could still feel his burning stare on me. A harsh shiver rolled down my spine, and Noah sadly noticed.

Thankfully, though, he didn't do anything about that.

I noticed how Mrs. Strout stood up discreetly from her chair st the front of the class and began to walk around the darkened room while keeping her eyes glued to the TV. She seemed more interested in the documentary than anyone else here. Some of the students were sleeping, and a many of them were doing everything else, the amount actually watching the documentary was able to be counted on one hand.

"How's everything so far, honey?"

A sickly cold chill rolled all around and through me at the sound of Mrs. Strout's voice beside my ear. I fiercely dug my fingernails into the skin of my arm and shut my eyes tightly, everything went cold inside me and i had the sudden need to rush to the bathroom. Cautiously i turned my head and saw her silvery blonde hair practically glowing in this darkness, i was only able to nod my head. That seemed to make her happy.

"Going good?" She asked hopefully. "I'm hoping Noah here is not giving you a hard time? If you'd feel more comfortable sitting up front or in the middle of the class, dear, that's fine with me." She added with so much feeling you were able to see it in her eyes.

The option to move from here and sit somewhere else was awfully difficult to decide. Usually i'd never think about a question like that because i thought it was rude, but this was an exception. On one hand, sitting here was a way not to be seen to many people who walked in the class—as it was i hadn't even noticed Noah was even in this classroom until Mrs. Strout pointed him out to me, clearly I could use this blindness to my advantage; on the other hand, sitting here beside Noah for not even five minutes has already got me panicking about anything and everything wrong with me, which was possibly a new record. Oddly enough, the feeling of someone familiar here with me in this new class was somewhat . . . comforting, even if it is Noah.